


Awaken

by TrekFaerie



Category: Get Out (2017)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Brain Damage, Brainwashing, Fix-It, Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10027871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrekFaerie/pseuds/TrekFaerie
Summary: It's hard, getting Andre up in the morning.





	

**Author's Note:**

> THEY NEED. TO GO BACK. FOR ANDRE.
> 
> it's hard writing a fix that doesn't actually fix anything bc the problem can't be fixed BUT IT'S BETTER THAN WHAT HE HAD... @jordanpeele please go back for andre

It's a two-person process, waking up Andre. Chris opens the door, his other hand already on his camera, ready to press the button. They have to act fast; Logan has been preparing the body to run ever since dawn, and he comes out the closet like a greyhound. But, Rod is there, and he tackles him to the ground, pinning him as Chris raises the camera, finger on the button.

"Will you just shoot him already? Damn!" Rod, cursing a blue streak as an elbow hits him right in the jaw, struggles to hold the man down. "And tell this nigga to stop eating so much goddamn protein! Grandad is strong enough already!"

Logan closes the eyes hard, but a swift kick to the stomach-- Chris winces as he does it, but knows it's for the best-- forces them to shoot open, and Chris takes the shot.

_Click_.

Flash.

Andre wakes up, coughing, using his newly freed arms to clutch his stomach. "Those are still my organs in there, man." But, he's smiling, and Chris knows why. It's a good feeling, getting out of the sunken place. For however long it lasts.

After they clean up the blood-- more and more every time, as good a sign as any that their band aid solution is quickly losing effectiveness-- Andre has the day to himself. He visits family and friends, eats lunch, just hangs around different parts of the city enjoying every second of freedom, every moment he's able to be himself. If a white woman, young or old, so much as glances at him on the Starbucks line, he flinches away.

Sometimes, at the end of the day, when Rod stops by after work, they try out some new things. Chris and Rod have been in talks with neuroscientists and psychologists, exchanging emails, trying to get someone to take on Andre's case. All so far have declined, saying everything but that it's impossible, but a few give helpful hints, a few ideas. They try them all. (One particularly New Age-y shrink had, upon hearing about their camera solution, suggested that perhaps exposure to more constant strobe lighting would extend the treatment's effectiveness. It hadn't worked. Nothing did. Except the camera, and only for the day.)

When the sun goes down, and Andre can start to feel Logan's influence pulling him back, he willingly walks into Chris' closet and sits, to try and fitfully sleep before the change takes place. Chris always knows when it has: the screaming starts, and the banging, the cursing and furious racial slurs, and he rolls his eyes, shoves in the nice earplugs he'd bought. Young body or not, the old man always tires himself out within an hour, and quiet comes over the apartment once again.

Before he sleeps, Chris checks his computer, moves the day's image into the folder he's made for it. He doesn't really know why he saves the pictures made during the daily ritual. Maybe reminding himself to not give up. Maybe reminding himself not to forget what they did. Maybe to make a killer gallery piece one day. Either way, he stares at the pictures, a growing collage of hateful, fearful white eyes in a black face, and goes to sleep, to dream of teacups shattering.

Only to do it all over again the next day. And the one after that. For as long as they need to do it, until Andre can really wake up.


End file.
